A growl, half-anger, half-surprise off to my left. The clatter of the cell phone dropping and skating across the hard floor.
Even as I turned and ran for Clay, my brain told me I was overreacting, that he'd probably just bumped into something or someone. But my gut knew better.
As I ran, I heard a thump, then a grunt. Another thump--harder, like a body hitting the floor. I rounded two corners, then saw Clay pinning a figure to the floor beside twin display cases of silver tableware.
It was Rose. She held a knife in one hand, but he had her by the wrist, so the weapon was useless. His other hand reached for her head, to snap her neck.
"The swords!" a child's voice shrieked. "I want to see the swords!"
Running footsteps sounded at the mouth of the gallery. Arms and armor were on the opposite side, but Clay hesitated, listening. As he turned, he saw me. I motioned for him to wait.
The footfalls screeched around the corner, heading our way. The child's parents tried calling him back, but he was too far to hear or too excited to care.
Clay pulled back and looked around, still holding
Rose's knife hand, but his attention was elsewhere, searching for a place to move her before the child came racing around the corner.
"There!" I hissed, pointing at a gap between two displays. "I'll head off--"
Rose bucked. The knife flashed and, although Clay still held her wrist, he instinctively dodged, loosening his grip just enough for her to wrench free. As she scrambled up, I raced around to cut off her escape route. Clay dove for her. Then two kids, no more than seven or eight, turned the corner and stopped dead, gazes fixed, not on us, but on the knife-wielding woman rising before them, her face like something out of their most macabre comic books. One screamed.
Rose raced past me. Clay tore after her.
"It's--we were rehearsing," I said quickly. "A play. She's dressed up."
I wanted to say more, but once Clay realized I wasn't behind him, he would stop chasing Rose. And, to be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted to be around when the parents found their terrified children. So, with a weak smile, I scooped up my cell phone from the floor and hurried after him.
I caught up as Clay reached the stair landing. He'd stopped there and was looking back, ready to return for me. I waved him on, but he didn't move until I'd caught up.
Rose was hurrying down the stairs, disappearing then reappearing from behind the huge Haida and Nisga'a totem poles that rose up the center of the circling stairs. I touched Clay's arm.
"Hold back," I whispered. "Let her think she's lost us."
He nodded, and let me nudge him back into the shadows, but kept his gaze fixed on Rose as she descended.
"She ambushed me," he whispered.
"Guess her brain is rotting after all."
"Or she was getting me out of the way first. Learning our routines."
"Possible. Where the heck is her partner?"
"Don't know, but I'm keeping my eyes open."
I touched his forearm, to tell him we could start forward. When I pulled back my fingers, they were wet with blood. I grabbed his arm for a better look, but he pulled away.
"Just a scratch."
"She stabbed--?"
He shook his head as he propelled me to the steps. "Her nails." He swiped away the blood, then started down the steps.
Rose hit the second-floor landing. I expected her to carry on down the stairs and run for the exit. Instead, she hurried toward the museum's most popular exhibit: the dinosaurs.
Clay let out a soft snarl of frustration. The dinosaur gallery was right under the European galleries, but U-shaped, guiding traffic in one end, then around and out the other, with no possible side trips.
I looked at Clay. We were both thinking the same thing--we had a surefire shot at catching Rose here...if we split up.